Caludia Keeshi: Middel Skol Mamma
by Celica60
Summary: After ten years in the eighth grade, will Claudia finally graduate? COMPLETE.
1. BCS Meating

**CALUDIA KEESHI: MIDDEL SKOL MAMMA**

Summary: After ten years in eighth grade, will Claudia finally graduate? 

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. But, I doubt Ann M. cares if I borrow them, as her empire was built on the backs of faceless ghostwriters. 

**Chapter 1: BCS Meating**

_Ring, ring._

"Hello, Baby-Sitters Club," I say into the receiver. "Oh, hi, Mrs. Rodowsky! All the grandkids are coming this weekend? Okay, I'll see who's free and get back to you." My friends look at me expectantly. The Rodowsky's are one crazy family, so everyone's always interested in what's new at their house. 

"Mrs. Rodowsky needs two sitters on Saturday. Shea and the kids are coming for the weekend. Shea and Archie will be going with Mr. and Mrs. Rodowsky to visit Jackie in juvie," 

"Let me check the record book," says Nina Marshall. 

"Will it be all five kids?" asks Eleanor Marshall. 

"Yep. That's why Mrs. Rodowsky wants two sitters," I explain. 

"That Shea Rodowsky has been a busy little bee since dropping out of high school,"smirks Claire Pike. 

I cover my mouth to suppress a giggle. 

"What do you mean?" asks Lucy Newton, who's only eleven. 

Claire and I exchange a Look. Sometimes Lucy seems _so young._

"Gabbie's the only one free," Nina tells us. "Let me call Sari." That's Sari Papadakis, our associate member. 

Wait, before I go any further, I should introduce myself. My name's Claudia Kishi. I'm twenty-three years old and an eighth grader at Stoneybrook Middle School. Most important, I'm the Vice President of the Baby-Sitters Club. The club was the idea of Kristy Thomas, our first president. We founded the club with two of our best friends. That was almost twelve years ago. We've been through many club members since then, but I'm still here! 

See, I've been in eighth grade for ten years. You may assume I'm dumb, but that's not true. I've been tested and have an above average IQ. My parents and teachers call me an underachiever. I just don't like school. I plan to be a famous artist someday, so why do I need to learn about the Russian Revolution and obtuse angles? 

But, I'm going to stick it out and graduate. I want my parents to be proud of me like they are of my older sister, Janine. Janine has a genius IQ (honest), half a dozen degrees from Big Name universities, and a fancy job in Texas. I don't know exactly what she does, but it has something to do with spaceships! 

You may think I'm self-conscious about being held back so many times. I'm not. I know that some people (like me!) just learn at a slower pace. I'm a regular eighth grader and baby-sitter. Plus, it's not like I'm the only person who's repeated a grade. Claire Pike was held back in fourth, fifth, and sixth grade. And, she's club president! At least, I only had to repeat a single grade. 

The other girls in the club are awesome. They are: Nina Marshall (secretary), Gabbie Perkins (treasurer), Eleanor Marshall (junior officer), and Lucy Newton (junior officer). (We axed the position of alternate officer when Vanessa Pike, a former president, pointed out that a Vice President _is_ an alternate officer). We also have an associate member, Sari Papadakis. We call her when we're in a jam. 

_Ring, ring!_ Another call! I love it when we're busy! 

Eleanor grabs the phone. "Good afternoon, Baby-Sitters Club." Eleanor listens a moment, then giggles. "Of course, we're still offering the Baby-Sitters Alumni discount!" she exclaims. Eleanor covers the mouthpiece and whispers, "Mary Anne." The rest of us squeal and clap our hands in delight. Mary Anne is a favorite client and her kids are extra special charges. Sometimes we argue over who gets to sit for them. 

Actually, Mary Anne's the reason the BSC created the Alumni discount. You see, Mary Anne's had a rough time the last few years. In tenth grade, Mary Anne and Pete Black went All The Way in the backseat of Pete's Grandma's Lincoln Continental. Poor Mary Anne, her dad threw her out of the house before the baby was even born. She lived with Pete's family until the end of high school, then Pete got a baseball scholarship to Arizona State. He just abandoned Mary Anne! What a creep! In desperation, Mary Anne turned to Charlie Thomas...and ended up with twins. Luckily, there's a happy ending to Mary Anne's story. Recently, she found True Luv with Rick Chow. Unfortunately, not everyone approves of their relationship. Rick's chinese, Mary Anne's caucasian. Ignorant people object to interracial dating. Last month, their landlord evicted them for no good reason! Now, they're living with Rick's older brother. But guess what?! Mary Anne's pregnant again! I already have some name ideas - Zeffyrr for a boy and Bolivia for a girl. Cute, huh? 

"Claudia, are you listening?" 

Whoops! I zoned out while Nina was talking! 

"Come again?" 

Nina sighs. "I was saying, you and Lucy are the only ones free." 

"For when?" 

"Next Tuesday. Four to five-thirty. Mary Anne's taking Cam and Geary to the dentist, so it's just Lincoln," 

"Lucy can have it. Mom and Dad want me to focus on the eighth grade exit exam. It's next Thursday," 

Everyone falls silent. Eleanor shifts uncomfortably. Gabbie stares at her fingernails. They're always nervous when the exit exam comes around. But, they never make rude comments about my repeating eighth grade. Just like no one makes comments about Lucy's brother Jamie taking special education classes. We're sensitive to each other's problems. 

I decide to break the silence. A BSC meeting is no time to worry about school! However, it's the perfect time for gossip! 

"So, Claire, is Margo still waiting for Jackie?" 

Claire snorts. "Are you kidding? She's been locking lips with Norman Hill for the past week!" 

We laugh so hard Eleanor falls off the bed, which only causes us to laugh more. Eleanor clutches her stomach, rolling on the floor. The phone rings, but no one can stop laughing long enough to answer. Finally, on the fifth ring, Gabbie is composed enough to answer and set up a sitting job for Claire. The BSC can get so wild sometimes! 

The phone rings twice more. We set up another job for Claire and one for Nina. 

"I almost forgot," Claire says between calls. "I have to cancel the sleepover on Friday." 

"Oh, no!" Lucy and Gabbie cry in unison. They quickly hook pinkies and say "jinx". 

"I know, guys, but my dad caught Nicky spying on Margo in the shower. Again," 

"We'll work something out," I assure her. Maybe Mom and Dad will let me have it here if I get a "B" on tomorrow's science test. 

"Hey, Claudie, do you have anymore wheat crackers?" Gabbie asks. She's trying to lose five pounds before graduation. I dive under the bed and retrieve the crackers from a box marked PASTYLES. Then, I get some Red Vines from the KULERD PINSILS box. My parents don't approve of junk food. Or Nancy Drew books. I hide those, too. 

I pass out the Red Vines, while Gabbie nibbles on a wheat cracker. It always makes me sad to see anyone eat health food. I'm reminded of a dear friend, our original alternate officer - a real individual and free thinker. I really miss Dawn Schafer. Even though I hadn't seen her for several years before the mass suicide. After high school, Dawn and her best friend, Sunny Winslow, sold all their earthly possessions and moved to Montana to join a special club called Eye of the Beholder. They lived off the land, made their own clothes, and worshipped a chicken deity. It sounds weird, I know, but Dawn was super happy. I just wish she hadn't drank that Kool-Aid. 

"Okay, guys, it's six," Claire announces. No gavel or formal speech for her. Claire's a very laid-back president. 

"Call me if you need any help on the math homework," Gabbie tells me. 

"And call me with any questions on the book report," adds Nina. 

"Thanks. You girls are the best!" I reply. 

"No, the Baby-Sitters Club is the best!" exclaims Lucy. 

She's right. The BSC is the greatest thing in my life. I know that with the help of the BSC, I'll finally pass eighth grade! 


	2. Best Freinds

**Chapter 2: Best Freinds**

After our meeting, Claire and I ride our bikes to my sitting job. Claire's a good friend. In fact, she's my best. It's sort of funny since not too many years ago, I was a frequent sitter for Claire and her siblings. Now, we're riding our bikes through the streets of Stoneybrook, sharing a laugh and a Mallomar. Claire used to be just a sweet, enthusiastic kid, who gave me an occasional headache. She's really matured since becoming president of the BSC. She rarely ever says "silly-billy-goo-goo. 

Claire is only the second best friend I've ever had. Actually, I didn't have my first until seventh grade! That's because I was always so different from the other kids. I was into art and fashion and funky jewelry, not dolls or tea parties. Then, at the start of seventh grade, Stacey McGill and I ran into each other - literally! (That was a vocabulary word last week). Stacey and I had tons in common. We loved clothes and boys...and...um, plus, we were pretty sophisticated for seventh grade. Stacey because she had permed hair and came from New York. Me, I'm not sure why I was sophisticated. Probably because I'm artsy and Japanese. 

Anyway, Stacey and I went through a lot together - her move back to New York, her parents' divorce, the death of Mimi (my grandmother. She was old, foreign, and wise. I miss her a lot). Our friendship endured all those trials and while Stacey went through high school and I repeated eighth grade four times, we kept that friendship strong. 

Ever since Stacey got into credit card debt, I haven't seen her much. It was the flower pins that really did her in. Or, maybe the return of leg warmers. Stacey had to get a second job. During the week, she works at a bank in Stamford. On Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights she works for Alan Gray (ew!) at his club The Purring Pussy. At first, I worried that Alan would make Stacey do something really degrading like wait tables or pour drinks. Alan really came through for Stacey though. He paid her debt and said she could work it off in the back. That's where he does his taxes, I guess. 

Now, it's me and Claire, thick as fleas, trying to pass eighth grade. 

When I tell Claire that she giggles and says, "It's thieves, not fleas" 

I giggle, too. It's important to have a sense of humor about yourself. I realized that my third time through eighth grade. 

Claire and I ride passed Anthony Zmeggler, this totally fabutastic boy in our class. (My friends and I combined "fabulous" and "fantastic" to create a super cool word). Anthony's mowing his lawn, but stops to wave. I wave back and pop a wheelie. Anthony winks. Oh my lord! I think I'm in LUV! 

Normally, I wouldn't be riding a bike to my sitting job. I have a car and finally passed the driving test last fall. (The BSC helped me study for it for three years). I'm currently grounded from my car though. My parents are so strict! They completely flipped out when they learned I went joyriding in New Jersey with the BSC. Something about taking minors across state lines. 

Claire and I stop in front of the Wilder residence. I'm not even off my bike yet when Rosie Wilder flies out the front door, skateboard tucked under one arm and her baby under the other. Rosie tosses the baby to me like a hot potato, throws down her skateboard, and takes off down the street. 

"Be back by eleven!" she calls. 

Claire and I look at each other and laugh. 


	3. Eenglish Klas

**Chapter 3: Eenglish Klas**

My first nine times through eighth grade, math was my least favorite subject. All those numbers, equations, and theories get jumbled up in my head. However, since the start of the semester I have a new most hated subject: English. 

The reason for my dread? 

Her name is Mallory Pike. 

Mallory was once in the Baby-Sitters Club, too. She was pretty cool for an eleven year old - practical, understanding, laid-back. Then, she started having problems at school. Kids were calling her Spaz Girl and immature stuff like that. It changed Mallory, made her hard and sour. Mallory and I weren't really friends after she went away to boarding school. I know from Claire and Vanessa that Mallory's real trouble began after her sixteenth birthday when her first manuscript was rejected. Then, another. And, another. By the time Mallory finished high school, eight of her manuscripts had been rejected by thirty-nine publishers. She even got rejected by a publishing company in New Brunswick! I'm not sure if she got rejected by Old Brunswick, too. 

Mallory finally snapped when Duke University rejected her. And Northwestern. And Bryn Mawr. And Brandeis. At least Stoneybrook U. let her in. But, it didn't matter, all that rejection twisted Mal up inside, leaving her bitter, jaded, and homicidal. 

Yes, that's right. Mallory Pike is a sickopath.  
With a license to teach. 

Or, she'll have a license at the end of the school year. Right now, Mallory's the student teacher in my fourth period english class. Mrs. Hall gave Mallory free reign in April and now spends the period in the janitor's closet with Mr. Fiske. Mallory is left completely unsupervised. It's just Mal, us, and Mal's staple gun. 

The staple gun in how she punishes us for speaking out of turn, giving the wrong answer, not answering fast enough, and not paying attention. Mal has excellent aim. Last Wednesday, she got Marc Bressler right between the eyes after he coughed without permission. I admit, I've been hit by those staples plenty of times. Mostly, for giving the wrong answers. Actually, the class rarely gets an answer correct. See, we're not reading actual books. We're reading Mallory's rejected manuscripts. 

Mallory used to write such cute stories about frogs and field mice. I liked those. They were easy to understand. All Mal writes now are these strange anti-government harlequin romances about Ben Hobart. 

When I remind Mal of the good old days in the BSC, her eyes kind of glaze over. Then, she tries to staple my hand to the desk. 

For now, I'm staying out of her way. I just want to pass English. If I have to write an analysis of "Ben's Manroot Takes Over Milwaukee" to do so, then that's what I'll do. I actually think I might already be passing. I have an M, whatever that means. 

On Tuesday, before fourth period, Claire, Eleanor, and I are leaning against our lockers, waiting for some hunks to walk by. Actually, I'm waiting for one hunk in particular: Anthony Zmeggler. That wink yesterday must have meant _something._

"Do you think he'll ask me to the graduation dance?" I ask my friends. "Or, should I ask him?" 

"Maybe you should wait to see if you can even go to the graduation dance," replies Claire. 

"Oh, Claire, of course Claudia will be going!" protests Eleanor. "I think you should invite him. You've had a lot more experience. He might be intimidated." 

"You're right, El. I'll talk to him in gym class." 

Claire chews on a fingernail while staring at the ground. She's being completely unhelpful. She must not find Anthony babe-a-licious. Or, maybe she thinks I don't have a chance! 

"Oh no," Claire groans. 

"What is it?" I ask, alarmed. 

"Here comes Mallory," she replies with another groan. 

I turn around to see Mallory stalking down the hall, hunched over so everyone can see the small hump forming on her back. In the original BSC, we always said Mal would grow into a great beauty. Boy, Mother Nature sure proved us wrong. 

"Go to class," Mallory growls as she passes a group of seventh graders. The kids shriek and scatter in all directions. 

"Do you want to eat staples for lunch?" Mallory asks Olaf, the foreign exchange student. Mallory raises the staple gun, finger poised on the trigger. Olaf drops his books and runs away screaming, while Mallory shoots staples at his feet. "Dance, little Swissie, dance!" she cackles. 

"Hey Mal - er - Miss Pike," I greet her. 

Mallory grunts and points the staple gun at my head. "Get to class, Kishi. We're reading 'Upside-Down Australian Delight' today." Mallory grunts again and stalks off, shooting a staple every few feet. 

Poor Mallory. Just when I think I have it rough repeating eighth grade ten times. Then, I remember poor, rejected Mallory in her orthopedic shoes and pearl brooches, living in the triplets' old fort because her family's afraid to let her in the house. I am truly blessed. Not only do my parents allow me inside, I also have a fabutastic fashion sense. Mallory could learn so much from me. 

For instance, today I am wearing a canary yellow bustier (which I fill out beautifully as of last spring. You've no idea how many sitting jobs it takes to pay for breast implants!) paired with red plaid cut-off shorts. On my feet are yellow slouch socks and - get this - red plaid shoes! I used puff paint to create the pattern on a pair of black Keds. My ensemble doesn't end there! My hair is pulled into pigtails and tied with red, black, yellow, and neon green ribbons. (The neon green is to mix it up a bit!) On my wrists are bracelets I made out of tinfoil, bottle caps, and twist ties. The best part, though, are my earrings. In my left ear, there's a small cocker spaniel. In my right ear, there's a big pile of poo! And this is one of my tamer outfits. I wanted to appear classy and sophisticated for Anthony. That's why I chose the bustier. 

In English class, I sit in the back corner with Anthony, Marc Bressler, and the other cool kids. Today, I save a seat for Anthony. When he sits down, he winks at me. The entire period all I can think about are those deep, deep green eyes staring into mine. Instead of listening to Mallory drone on and on about the characterization in her own stories, I drift into a world where only Anthony and I exist. We dance on clouds of Mallomars and kiss beneath a Starburst sky. At the end of the period, Anthony leans over and compliments me on my bustier. He says I'm "tasty." 

I float out of the room and down the hallway, so high on love I barely notice Mallory following behind, shooting staples at my rear. 


	4. Shok! Betraile!

**Chapter 4: Shok! Betraile!**

After lunch, Claire and I have gym. It's our only common class, so we try to make the most of it. That's hard considering who our teacher is. It's someone as vile as Mallory Pike is crazy - 

Cokie Mason. 

Color me eight shades of surprise that Cokie even got into college! Yale must be one of those schools that'll let anyone in. Cokie Mason has been the mortal enemy of the BSC for as long as the club has existed. She's played nasty trick after nasty trick on us. Once, she sent Mary Anne a bad-luck charm! Another time, she sent Kristy fake love letters! I don't care if Cokie is my teacher. Nor do I care that she has a college degree (whoop-de-do!) or that she's engaged to a Youth Minister. That girl's just bad news. Plus, she's petty, spiteful, deceitful, and truthfully, not too bright. That I have to take orders from her is really quite - 

_Fweet! Fweet!_

"Kishi! Quit standing there with your mouth hanging open! Get out on the court!" 

Can you believe how bossy she is? 

"And take off that ridiculous tail!" 

Oh, my tail. Cokie has a major problem with how I've modified my gym uniform. I glance around at all the other kids in their baggy yellow and blue shorts and sweat stained t-shirts. They all just blend together. Me, I like to stand out in the crowd. No one would mistake me for an ordinary SMS student in the uniform I created! In it, everyone can tell I'm special. 

Here's how I created my unique uniform: first, I sewed together half a pair of navy-colored sweatshorts and half a pair of goldenrod-colored sweatshorts. I hemmed them to just below my bikini line, for style and comfort. I can move freely in those shorts! Now - get this - I made a tail out of felt and sewed it on the back of my shorts. Then, I glued felt ears onto a headband. Get it? I'm a jaguar! Our school mascot! 

For awhile, I had papier mache jaguar heads fastened over my breasts, but they were ripped off during a particularly rowdy game of volleyball. Boy, was Cokie mad when my tube top came off. She acted like Marc Bressler _meant_ to pull it down around my knees. 

Cokie tried to get my uniform banned from gym. However, Mr. Kingbridge, the assistant principal, really stood up for me. He thinks my uniform is cute (he loved the jaguar heads). Mr. Kingbridge pops into the gym two or three times a week to make sure Cokie doesn't give me a bad time. He came _everyday_ during the track and basketball units. He says he really likes my jump shot! 

Cokie still insists my uniform is "inappropriate" and "distracting". She's so spiteful! She needs to get over the time we scared her at Old Hickory's grave and - 

"Kishi! Do you see the tennis balls flying at you head?" 

Someone's power tripping! 

"Excuse me, Cokie," I reply sweetly,"I have a lot on my mind." 

"Oh no. I'm sorry, Miss Kishi. I should have recognized your brain working overtime." Cokie smiles, then blows her whistle. _Fweet! Fweet!_ "Now, get on the court, pay attention, and swing that racket. Can you manage that? After taking eighth grade gym ten times I would hope so." 

Gee, embarrassing me is just uncalled for! Must everyone be reminded of how many times I've repeated eighth grade? Besides, I've passed gym four of those times. 

When Cokie turns her back, I stick out my tongue. Then, I set down my racket and walk over to the drinking fountain where Claire's talking to Anthony Zmeggler. She better be saying nice things about me! 

"Hey, guys!" I greet them. 

Claire scowls and doesn't say anything. I must have interrupted her telling Anthony something fabutastic about me. Anthony winks. I was right! 

I lean over to get a sip of water. As I'm straightening up, Anthony splashes water all over the front of my tube top! 

Anthony laughs. "Hey, Claud, you look cold," he says, glancing down at my chest. 

I laugh, too. I can't believe Anthony Zmeggler's flirting with me! Claire snorts and walks away to give us some privacy. 

"So, Claud, do you have any plans on Saturday?" Anthony asks. 

"I have a sitting job in the afternoon, but I'm free all evening," 

"That's cool. I was thinking, maybe we could take your car-" 

"That's perfect! I get my car back on Saturday!" 

"Cool, that's cool," Anthony pats the top of his beautifully gelled hair. He gives me another green-eyed wink. I'm dying. "So, on the outskirts of Stoneybrook, there's this place called Kozy Kabins - " 

"Oh, for the love of Grandma Mildred!" 

Argh! Just when I'm scoring a date! 

"You!" Cokie points at Anthony, "Fifteen laps - now!" Cokie grabs my arm and drags me back to the tennis courts. 

"Your timing totally Hoovers, Cokie!" 

"It...huh? Nevermind. You were making a date with an eighth grader!" 

_Duh._ I roll my eyes. "I _am_ an eighth grader." 

"He's a _real_ eighth grader. Not a repeat offender. In all your years of eighth grade English, have you ever had 'statutory' as a vocabulary word?" 

I can't believe Cokie's wasting my time with pop quizzes! And, for her to give a lecture on English. Cokie once used a book flap for a book report! 

"You're ruining my chances with Anthony! Just because you're jealous! Just like you've always been jealous of the Baby-Sitters Club!" 

Cokie becomes flustered, sputtering a few incoherent words. Her eyes cross and her face turns purple. Ha! I've rendered her speechless with my wit and keen observationistic skills. A person doesn't take the Public Speaking Short Takes class six times (passing twice!) without picking up a few debating techniques. 

Cokie tears off her sweatshirt (still speechless!), shoves it into my arms, and pushes me onto a tennis court."Sweatshirt! On! Racket! Pick up! Play! Now!" 

Someone who crumbles under the power of debate really shouldn't be teaching. But, I zip up the sweatshirt and swing at a few balls. Lucky for me, passing gym is not a requirement for passing eighth grade. Cokie watches for about five or ten minutes, arms folded across her chest, brooding and jealous (same old Cokie!) Finally, a fight breaks out three courts down and Cokie rushes away to break it up, waving her arms and blowing her whistle. Really, Cokie has no control over this class. 

I set my racket down and walk off in search of Claire. I haven't seen her since the drinking fountain. I need to tell her about my big date with Anthony! 

"Have you seen Claire?" I ask Marnie Barrett, this totally skanky seventh grader. 

Marnie snaps her gum. "Yeah, she was walking toward the locker room, like, three minutes ago." 

"Thanks," 

I start toward the girls' locker room almost bursting with the excitement of my news. Me and Anthony Zmeggler! Me and Anthony Zmeggler! I skip a few steps as I near the locker room. I push open the door and - 

See Claire. 

On her knees. In front of Anthony Zmeggler. With his shorts around his ankles. 

"Claire! How could you!" I shriek. 

Claire's head whips around, the color draining from her face. Tears well in the corners of my eyes. And I run. 

I run out of the locker room. Out of the gym. Out of Stoneybrook Middle School. I run all the way to Bradford Court. I realize, I don't have my house key. So, I throw myself into the hydrangeas and cry. 


	5. Studie Thyme

**Chapter 5: Studie Thyme**

_Deer Deary, _

>Iye can't beleeve Clare wood due that too mee! Wee our best freends! Eye no sum of the Pykes are none for beeing fast with the boys - Margeaux, Vanesa, Adam - but nott Claer! She nevr told mee she even new who too doo THAT! It is sew gross. Thay aren't even merreed! 

Clar beetrayed me. After I cunfyded my darkest secrits tu her. Like the Helloween two yeers ago whin I at three pears of wax lipps becaus Eye thot thay were candy. Oar, aboot the Chrismus party wear Marie-An's dad tung-kissed me under the missiletoe. 

I'll nevr trust Clear Pick again! 

After a week, the sting of Claire's betrayal has not faded. We've not spoken a word to each other. Not even at BSC meetings! Claire looks tired and miserable. Good! Plus, she has a nasty cold sore on her lip. Ha! 

The other girls are appalled by Claire's behavior. BSC members just don't act like that. We're nice, wholewheat girls. Maybe we can kick her out of the club. What would clients think of a club with a member like _her_? 

Besides that problem, tomorrow is the eighth grade exit exam. I'm so worried. My parents are, too. They even bought me a bag of Doritos in exchange for my promise to study all night. Dad arranged for Gabbie to come over to help with my math and history. I just hope we can concentrate without thoughts of a certain _someone_ distracting us. 

Gabbie comes over around seven, loaded down with books and binders. 

"Here, Claudie," she says, pulling a clear plastic container from her book bag. "Myriah made you some good luck brownies." 

"Chilly," I reply, sinking my teeth into a moist and creamy caramel walnut brownie. "Mmm, brain food." 

Gabbie giggles and sits back on the bed. She tucks her dark blonde blunt-cut hair behind her ears, then begins spreading her notes out on the bed. Gabbie is so serious and quiet, not at all the way she was as a kid. There's a sadness about her, ever since her sister, Laura, got trampled to death by their dog, Chewy. I guess a small suburban house wasn't the right place for a gargantuan dog like Chewy. Luckily, the city sent him to live on a big farm in the country! Chewy can run, jump, romp, and chase rabbits (instead of three year old girls). 

"I talked to Miss Himmler this afternoon. She says to really focus on map skills and more recent history - the Korean War, Vietnam, the Cold War. Do you have those notes, Claudie?" 

I glance up from my eleventh brownie. "Huh? What's the Cold War?" 

Gabbie sighs. "Let's start on map skills. I have some blank maps here. I'll point to a country and you tell me its name." Gabbie points a stubby teal-colored fingernail at a big land mass. 

I twirl some glossy black hair around a finger. I wonder what I should wear for tomorrow's exam. Maybe my neon green fishnets with - 

"Ahem," Gabbie clears her throat. 

"Huh? Oh. Um, Egypt?" 

"Claudie! That's Canada!" 

My face flushes. How am I supposed to learn all these things in one night?! 

"It's no use, Gabs. Claire and Anthony have me too distracted. You and Nina will have to graduate without me," 

"Oh, Claudie!" 

"It's okay. What's one more year?" 

Gabbie sighs again. "Let's study anyway." 

As far as I'm concerned, Gabbie might as well tutor a monkey. I'll be in eighth grade forever! 


	6. Momint of Trooth

**Chapter 6: Momint of Trooth**

"Claudia Kishi, please report to the office," Mr. Kingbridge's voice crackles over the P.A. system. 

Nina and I exchange a Look. Mr. Callman, our science teacher, waves me out. I pick up my fish-shaped purse and binder and head for the door. 

It's seventh period on Friday, the day after the exit exam. My heart beats wildly. The last six times, Mr. Kingbridge has called me into his office to break the bad news personally. But never so soon! What if they won't let me come back next year? Oh no! Mom and Dad would be so disappointed! 

"Hello, Claudia," Mr. Kingbridge says when I walk into his office. He raises his eyebrows. "My, my, my. Miss Kishi, that's quite the top you've got on." 

I look down at my fluorescent orange Hawaiian-print bikini top. I thought it was rather clever wearing it with a pleated gray wool skirt (from Janine's closet. I took off nine inches) and a pair of white knee socks. I call the look "Schoolgirl Surprise". 

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Kingbridge?" 

Mr. Kingbridge smiles. "No use keeping you in suspense. Congratulations, Claudia. You passed." 

I passed? 

"Come again, sir?" 

"You passed eighth grade, Claudia," 

Oh my lord! 

"Thank you, Mr. Kingbridge! Thank you so much!" 

I run out of the office and into the hallway. Students swarm the halls, pushing toward their lockers, rushing to go home for the weekend. I barrel straight through them. 

"I passed! I passed!" I shout when Lucy and Eleanor come into sight. "I passed eighth grade!" 

Lucy and Eleanor shriek and jump on me. We link arms and run down the hall and out the front doors. Gabbie and Nina are waiting on the steps. 

"I passed! I'm going to high school!" 

Nina bursts into tears and hugs me. The others join in. "We're so proud of you, Claudie," Gabbie whispers in my ear. 

"Congratulations, Claud," 

I break from the group and turn around. Claire's standing behind me. She looks small and pitiful, the red and angry-looking cold sores around her mouth appearing ready to burst. I open my arms and she runs into them. Boys may come and go, but the BSC is forever! 

Reunited, the entire BSC piles into my car. I floor it to Pizza Express, where I eat an entire X-Large pepperoni and sausage pizza all by myself! I even drink three pitchers of root beer! The BSC laughs, cries, and has twelve pizza toasts. Afterward, we cruise through downtown Stoneybrook with the windows rolled down and U4Me blaring on the radio. I wish I could remember the words to the "Pimp and Circumcision" song. 

We pass the Taco Bell and I see Jessi Ramsey (who's black) walk out in her assistant manager uniform. I guess the ballet thing didn't work out. 

Back at home, I make some phone calls before the BSC meeting. Stacey and Mary Anne cry when I give them the good news. Then, I call Vanessa Pike, Byron Pike, Haley Braddock, the Arnold twins, and James Hobart. I even call Shannon Kilbourne in St. Louis. I assure the secretary that the call is super important, so she pulls Shannon out of a meeting. When Shannon hears that I finally passed eighth grade, she bursts into hysterical laughter. She's so happy for me! Shannon laughs until she's in tears, then we get disconnected somehow. 

I consider calling Logan Bruno with the news. He was once an important member of the club. But the BSC swore to never speak to him again after he started dating his sister. 

With my calls finished I start mixing a cake to surprise my parents. They'll be so proud! _Claudia Kishi,_ I tell myself, _you've finally made it._


	7. Grajooachun Daye

**Chapter 7: Grajooachun Daye**

Graduation day. 

After ten years, I'm finally standing in line, waiting to walk into the gym and onto the stage. I'm going to get that diploma. I'm going to go to high school. I wipe a tear from my eye. My dream is coming true. 

"Is my cap on straight?" I ask Zora Keller, the girl in front of me. 

Her eyes widen. "Um, yeah. I like the...glitter." 

"Hey, thanks! I did the little jaguars myself with puff paint. Look at this one on my robe. He has a diploma," 

"Wow," Zora replies, totally impressed. She nudges the boy in front of her and points out my fabutastic creation. 

I turn around to wave at Nina, Gabbie, and Claire. Oh my lord! Guess who's standing behind the fence? Kristy Thomas! She never misses a chance to see former charges graduate, despite the restraining orders. 

I wave at Kristy. She gives me the finger. I guess she'll never forgive the BSC for not allowing Karen to join. I played "Let's All Come In" enough times to know I didn't want to hang out with Karen as an adolescent. 

"Graduates, this way please," 

We straighten our robes and begin the march into the gym. Once inside, we take our seats onstage. I search the audience for my friends and family. Lucy's sitting with the Marshalls, Stacey's sitting with the Pikes, and Mary Anne's sitting between Rick Chow and his brother, holding their hands while Lincoln, Cam, and Geary turn somersaults in the aisles. In the back of the gym, I spot my parents slumped in their seats wearing dark sunglasses and hats pulled down over their faces. 

I'm really disappointed that Janine couldn't come. She said it was too close to her lunch date. A pretty poor excuse. She can reschedule lunch. I'll never graduate eighth grade again. 

"Claudia Lynn Kishi," Mr. Kingbridge finally calls. I shake his hand and take my diploma. Finally! After ten years of hard work, I've passed eighth grade. 

We cry a bit after the ceremony. I've spent more than half my life at SMS. High school will be a big, scary place. But, at least the Baby-Sitters Club will be there together! Plus, to help me celebrate, Mr. Kingbridge invited me to his cabin in Vermont. I hope the rest of the BSC can come! 

"We did it," Claire smiles at me. 

"Together," I tell her, "the Baby-Sitters Club can do anything." 

Watch out, SHS! Here comes Claudia Kishi! 

And, the Baby-Sitters Club! 


End file.
